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Tuesday, July 30, 2002
Copyright © Las Vegas Review-Journal COLUMN: John L. Smith Island bookmaker's latest brush with law leaves natives restless
Recent word that Caribbean-based bookmaker Ron "The Cigar" Sacco was back in jail has longtime Las Vegas betting wiseguys shrugging their shoulders, shaking their heads, and rolling their eyes. Although that might sound like a new version of the Macarena, they don't feel much like dancing. And while they should be feeling slightly queasy, they aren't coming down with a rare tropical disease. It's grim reality setting in. Sacco, long considered the undisputed island king of the bookmakers, has been dethroned. The natives are officially restless. The world has changed a little since the early 1960s, when Attorney General Robert Kennedy spearheaded an unprecedented attack on organized crime and gambling and harassed the nation's loosely-knit illegal bookmaking syndicates from here to Hoboken. By 1977, gambling had begun to lose its 5 o'clock shadow. Atlantic City opened shiny legal casinos on the Boardwalk. A decade later, Indian reservations were building gambling halls, and today only a few political plot twists are keeping casinos from being legalized on the Internet. Gambling remains controversial, but even its staunchest critics admit it has become far more acceptable throughout the United States. Then there are the Ron Saccos of this world. Somewhere along the line, they missed the Lear jet to corporate gambling heaven. While their cousins in the casino racket were going corporate and handing out stock options, his breed was talking in code on pay phones and sweating federal heat. Sacco has taken too many federal falls, and therefore faces the threat of a lengthy prison sentence, not to be suspected of cooperating with the FBI. A credible sports betting Web site called TheRX.com has also dropped the names of Frank Masterana and "Stevie K" as possible government informants. Add a half dozen other island bookmakers suspected of sharing information with investigators, and some major Las Vegas players are bound to be sweating the action. Lately, the professional bettors are sounding more like radio talkshow hosts than guys riding the dime line one day at a time. "After September 11," they rant, "you'd think the FBI would have more important things on its mind than one bookmaker." They might think that. Not me. Illegal sports gambling cases are federal law enforcement's old reliable. The FBI's competence in terrorist matters might be questioned daily in the nation's press, but those wily old illegal bookmakers continue to take a beating from Buffalo to Curacao. When local politicians and casino owners lecture about how much we've evolved, I think of Sacco and dozens of dinosaurs like him. For them, the Ice Age never ends. They can hire lawyers to give opinions that their island bookmaking activities are legal. They can argue that Internet gambling falls outside the federal definition of gambling across state lines. But they're only kidding themselves. At a time much of the rest of the country has embraced legalized casinos in the back yard, little has changed for the illegal bookmakers. Major sports gamblers remain the ultimate pariahs. Meanwhile, sports betting proliferates in every small town and big city in America. The Internet is clogged with tout services and off-shore bookmaking come-ons. Ironically, legalized sports betting is one of the last gambling nuances that make Las Vegas distinct from its imitators. Although many of our casino corporations are uneasy with the sports book subculture, they use it as a moneymaking marketing tool that has helped turn the Super Bowl, March Madness, Derby Day and Breeders' Cup into high-visitor-volume, hugely successful weekends for the Strip. That's on this side of the state line. Outside Nevada, the bookmakers are treated like they just fell off the set of "The Sopranos." Some of them fit the description. Sacco, called a mob associate in some law enforcement circles, knows the drill. He is a living symbol of the outlaw betting racket. And his trouble has plenty of people jittery. It's not a new dance, just the same old waltz that ends at the courthouse. John L. Smith's column appears Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. E-mail him at Smith@reviewjournal.com or call 383-0295.
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